


Scorpions in a Ring of Fire

by fannishliss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Poetry, fan poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This poem came to me while I was watching luminosity's recent awesome pair of Sam and Dean <a href="http://sockkpuppett.livejournal.com/532615.html">vids</a>, set to the Unkle song, Broken.  I remember this lore from a Percy Shelley poem, but I don't remember which one. Thanks also to <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://bowtrunckle.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://bowtrunckle.livejournal.com/"><b>bowtrunckle</b></a> , who recc'd Luminosity's vids -- among her many sterling qualities, she has great taste!</p><p>This poem is pretty grim, inspired by Luminosity's beautiful but grim vision of the boys' emotional state right now in mid s4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scorpions in a Ring of Fire

Scorpions in a Ring of Fire

The lore is, that scorpions,  
surrounded by a ring of fire,  
will sting themselves to death.  
But science, on the other hand,  
through rational observation,  
says that scorpions are immune  
to the effects of their own stings.  
It’s the heat of the fire that  
panics their primitive nerves.   
They strike out at nothing  
until, coldblooded, nocturnal creatures,  
they succumb to the relentless flames.

Sam learned all this in an aimless afternoon,  
googling at random, while Dean  
watched a marathon of eighties horror films.  
Sam clickety clicked away the day  
while Dean drank beer after beer, bloody  
images reflecting on the surface of his eyes. 

Scorpions dance, Sam learned,  
grasping each other by the claws.   
Sam pictures gladiatorial warriors  
fighting to the death, left hands  
bound together, right hands bladed,  
slashing, surrounded by the rings  
of jaded, bloodthirsty citizens.   
Sam’s not thinking of himself and Dean  
bound into a circle of flames or jeers,  
striking at each other in hopeless self-preservation –  
he’s learned that their arenas do not overlap.

Like Ruby’s knife, Sam is honed  
for destruction – but not fine  
enough for surgery – he can’t open Dean up  
to excise the guilt, the fear, searing away  
what makes Dean who he is. Body whole,  
mind sharp, soul in shreds –  
Dean’s still fighting, bound by the Angels,  
ringed by their hungry, judging stares.    
Sam, too, gazes, longing to heal, at least  
soothe, but he’s tinged by the venom,  
revenge, of his love devolved.

Sam waits simple and cold  
for the break, ready to grasp  
his brother’s left hand and swing out deadly  
with the right, true to the heart  
of whoever would ring them in  
or wall them apart.

 

 

 

 

Comments and/or concrit would be super welcome!


End file.
